The Staff of Moon Calling
by starrynightly
Summary: Warlic reminisces about how he obtained the Staff of Moon Calling from Cysero after he tells the Hero that the staff is not purchasable. Light Cysero/Warlic, sad fluff, unspecific "Hero."


The Staff of Moon Calling

The Staff of Moon Calling is actually an item for sale at Warlic's shop on AdventureQuest classic. However, since Dragonfable takes place before AdventureQuest, I thought this would be a nice story, if not a little sad. I apologize for any incorrect information presented here.

Disclaimer: All characters, mentioned places and weaponry belong to Artix Entertainment.

—

"How have you obtained this staff, Warlic?" the young, inexperienced Hero asks me curiously, admiring its golden, curved shape and levitating moonstones.

"It is not for sale, adventurer," I state sharply. The Hero winces. I blink, realizing that may have sounded unintentionally harsh. "It's not for sale because a companion of mine created it for me. It is . . . sentimental to me, I suppose."

"Oh," the Hero nods in understanding. "Who?"

"Who, what?"

"Who made the Staff of Moon Calling for you?"

"Cysero. Have you heard of him?"

"The mad weaponsmith who is obsessed with left socks, I believe!"

"That is him."

"That is amazing!" the Hero beams. "How do you know him? Why did he make the Staff of Moon Calling for you?"

"Before my magic shop here in Battleon, Cysero and I shared a dimension of our own within a small tent northwest of the dwarven mining town Lymcrest and a deal south of the cold Dragesvard. We both paid the rent and did our share of chores, but he was also an idiot." I could not help but laugh softly, unable to draw away the feelings of warm nostalgia. Even the nostalgia seems to be effecting the smiling Hero, though the adventurer never experience what I had.

"He . . ." I pause, sudden melancholy washing over me, making my heart feel as if it is drowning. "He made the Staff of Moon Calling for me because he was leaving. I knew this to be inevitable, because he was the type who explores Lore for new methods of creating and enchanting powerful weapons, but it had caught me by surprise. It was . . . all so sudden . . ."

_I had been sitting at my study when I had heard another explosion of a failed magical experiment. It was the third one that day._

_ Ignore it, I thought, angrily scribbling words of an ancient tongue onto a scroll with a white feather quill. It was only Cysero and his idiocy, nothing more or less. Things seemed to quiet down within minutes, and I was once again in the leisure of writing in peace. Nothing was more enjoyable to me than studying runes and the compositions of spells. Then there was another blast minutes later. The following boom interrupted my concentration, a blast that rattled the very confusing and compact dimension Cysero and I shared. I felt my eye had twitched as I heard vials and mirrors fall and shatter behind me, as well as several books tumble into small into small heaps on the floor. "Damn it all!" I screamed when the quake had tipped over the bottle of ink which sat on my desk and spilled its contents on my scroll and blue robes._

_ In a fit, I had thrown away the quill and grabbed for my personal staff, which, by a marvelous miracle, did not knock to the ground. I would clean the mess later, but then was the time to scold that mad weaponsmith and force him to clean it up._

_ I had felt a shudder creep through my back as I crossed the thick yellow line which divided our share of the dimension. It did not take me long to see the sideways windows, mobile laundry, and other trinkets equally mischievous. I even saw a carton of mustard lying about. I was rather sure I "formally" complained about my pillow filled to the brim with mustard. It was not a pleasant endeavor._

_ "Cysero!" I yelled, unhappily, as I entered the chamber of the mad weaponsmith. This was a room I had been several times to consult with the madman, whom was working by his fires, his ores, his anvil, his tools, runes and spells and scrolls of enchantment. There he was, hunched over his incomplete work, as if he was hiding it from me. "Cysero, I want you to—"_

_ "I'll clean it up later!" Cysero briefly stated as if he had read my mind. "I am busy workin' on a lil' something; leave!"_

_ I crossed my arms, bemused, "Something that shakes our rented dimension is not 'little,' you dolt—what on Lore are you doing?" I, who was curious, inched closer to Cysero, tilting my head upward just so to peek at his project over his shoulder._

_ Cysero had sensed my footsteps and swiftly turned around to face me, although his bangs covered his eyes. He put his hands up, pushing me back. "No, no. It's a surprise. You can't ruin surprises, blue mage!" he said with a charming, wide, resolute grin._

_ I stepped away, biting the inside of my cheek. "I take the surprise is for me," I asked anxiously._

_ "How didja guess?" he asked snarkily, returning to his work. Idly, I ran through several protection incantations quietly in my mind. I just stood there, plainly and out of place. Cysero thought so too. He turned back to me, and I swore, for a moment, I caught the sly gleam of one of his eyes. "C'mon, Warlic, go away!"_

"Warlic?" the Hero asked tentatively. "Are you alright?"

" . . . Hm? Oh, yes. I am fine," I say quickly. Just as quickly, I glimpse at the position of the sun. It is the time of the day to check on a few measly works of mine. "I must check on my experiments. Do not touch anything on the back shelf," I glare at the Hero to get my point across. "There are deadly and unpredictable things there."

"Sure thing, really!" the Hero grins innocently as I take my temporary leave to the back room.

I often wonder how many seeds a seedspitter could spit in a room with low sunlight. The answer is as simple as I thought it would be. The relatively dangerous plant does not spit as many seeds as it should, and its growth has been stunted. This probably is a rather cruel experiment, but still I give the plant the food and water it needs to survive. Now, since the plant is sleeping, this is an opportune moment to water it. I grasp the watering can and start to water the soil of the plant. Soon I lose myself again to wandering thoughts.

_"I did it!" I heard Cysero scream all the way from his wing as I was cleaning the remains of the previous mess. I blinked. He has quite the lungs. Probably from all of his maniacal laughter. I said a spell that cleaned the ink stain on my blue robes, and a few other magical words to clean the broken glass off the floor. I leaned over to pick up the books of Lore, and placed them in their appropriate bookshelves. With faint heart, I glanced to my soiled desk and the blackened scroll. Oh, well, it would have to be re-done._

_ I contemplated whether or not I should see Cysero, but I refrained from doing so. I did not want to seem too excited or curious, but I was reluctantly so. Instead, not many minutes later, Cysero arrived at my chamber with an item behind his back. However, sadly, he did not knock so he may have the permission to enter, he barged in instead. I thought of the incantations of protection again._

_ "Warlic! I have a surprise for you," said the weaponsmith._

_ "I know. What is it?"_

_ "Geez, aren't you going to guess?"_

_ "A pony."_

_ "Well, aren't you a serious one." Cysero deadpanned. From his back, he drew out a sizeable staff and thrust it into my hands. "Here. I thought this would make an excellent 'Going-Away' present. I have been in the process of making this staff for days on end. I call it the Staff of Moon Calling. See the large crescent figure and the three stones levitating in it? Real moonstones. It will even heal you somewhat during battle against some wandering monsters."_

_ Hardly was I paying attention to him. I felt the magic of the moon pulse through the golden arch of the Staff of Moon Calling's back. I admired the craftsmanship that went into it. Cysero was right. There were real moonstones on this staff. Four stones, actually. The fourth stone was centered at the curved foot of the staff. Below the crescent at the top of the staff hanged a blue feather, tied to the staff with cloth that was more blue than the feather. It was very beautiful, but suddenly I remembered hearing two distinct words that came from the mouth of Cysero._

_ " . . . You're going away? As in leaving?" I frowned._

_ "For good!" Cysero nodded, a wide, yet sad smile on his face. "Yeah . . . I'm sorry this is at such short notice, but I wanted to give you something before I leave. I tried to enchant all the powers of the moon—tidal waves, the blinding powers of light—in this staff for you, but it didn't end up the way I wanted it to. You know, just to be a good dimension-sharing-mate."_

_I realized why there were powerful blasts all throughout the day. I gave him a very tight smile, gripping tightly onto the Staff of Moon Calling, "You have been trying to enchant the staff during daylight the whole time, didn't you? The explosions?"_

" _. . . Damn!"_

_ "I-it's fine! I just . . . did not expect this. Where will you be going?"_

_ "Anywhere I want!" he said simply._

_ "What will I do in order to pay the rent for this dimension?" My lips pursed._

_ "Have someone move in with you. It's that simple."_

_ "Oh . . . do you need any help packing?"_

_ "No, I am ready. I will be leaving tomorrow, though. Have you seen any other rogue laundry about? Left socks by chance?" I shook my head. He smiled, and patted my shoulder. _

_ "Why the moon?" I asked suddenly._

_ "Hm?"_

_ "Why the moon?" I repeated._

_ "Oh . . . I thought it would suit the color of your hair, your person. Goodnight"_

" . . . Huh? Oh!" I gasp as I shake myself from my daydream. I had watered the seedspitter too much. I sigh, realizing that now the plant would never survive in these conditions. I throw away the plant outside from the back door. It is dangerous to have one around anyway.

I solemnly return to the front of my shop, and I see the Hero stand there, face completely black. "Oops," he murmurs shamefully. I shake my head. I conjure the magical mirror that allows you to change your appearance. The Hero stands before it. The Hero winces from the dark reflection of the mirror.

"Twenty gold."


End file.
